Music
by Forwillandjane
Summary: Following "Dr. Clarkson Declares Himself"; in which Isobel discovers something new about Dr. Clarkson.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N_

The songs mentioned in this piece are "If I Was a Blackbird" and "The Queen of Argyll," both by Silly Wizard, if you want to give them a listen.

She had been to his house a few times before—sometimes on hospital business, occasionally on a friendly visit or tea, and once even for dinner. But she had never come to his house with feelings beyond friendship explicitly expressed between them—never come for the express purpose of a courtship.

She had never before sat with him in his small office sitting-room, with a gentle fire crackling in the corner, freely allowing herself to examine all the little corners and details of his life—both the place where he lived as well as himself—to paint a fuller picture, to learn every lineament of the man she loved.

He watched her as her eyes roamed the room and her fingers played with his hands. As she fiddled with the ring he wore, her her eyes caught on a far corner of the room, sheltered from the heat of the fire and cold of the window by bookshelves and a hanging plaid scarf. (She could never help herself grinning at the excess of plaid that filled his house and wardrobe. It was sure to be found in any room, as a blanket draped over a chair, the cover of a pillow, or even hung decoratively. Most of these were his own family tartan, he'd told her once, when she'd asked him laughingly.) The soft, playful light of the fire obscured the shadows of the corner into strange shapes. She instinctively rose to examine more carefully, letting her arm drop to hold his hand at her side. Then she let go of him to walk almost dreamily across the room, entranced by the shapes there. He leaned back and smiled as he watched her. She had the most endearing curiosity, and always a spirit of adventure about her, even in the smallest things. He loved seeing her exploring his life now. And she was stunning in the flow of the fire, with a shadowy beauty, her light standing out from the dark shadows of the rest of the room. She laid her hand against one of the bookshelves, nestling it in the plaid fabric, to examine the items in the little alcove. Her face lit up excitedly and she turned back to look at him with an inquiring smile.

"Richard, I had no idea—"

"That I had any interests beyond medicine?" he chuckled. "I suppose that despite years of friendship, you've never really had occasion to learn about some of my hobbies." She looked a little downcast.

"No, I suppose not. You must think me terribly self-centered, I never thought to ask—or perhaps I did think of it, but it never seem quite right…"

"No, not at all," he soothed. "There are many things I don't know about your interests—a lot left to learn," he smiled. "Like your favorite books, music…"

"Yes but this—it seems you must be quite the expert! It must be such an important part of your life."

"Yes...yes I, em, I suppose so..." She sat down again and nestled in close to him.

"Tell me, please...or better yet show me!" She grinned. How could he resist her? He planted a kiss on her forehead, then he got up and slowly moved to the sheltered alcove. He bent down and let his fingers glide over the shapes at home in the space. He seemed to know their curvatures and textures by heart, for he blocked out the fire's unsteady light as he bent over them, not needing it to find what he wanted. Finally, he took something in his grasp and one shadow detached itself from the rest, joining with the shadow of his form as he stood. He returned and sat on the other side of the sofa from her, the heavy shape now filling the space between them.

"It's mostly old Scottish folk tunes I know…" he began, a little timidly.

"Sounds marvelous!" she laughed. He sat and thought for a moment, a distant look settling over his face.

"This one is…rather sad. But, em, quite beautiful." Her eyes sparkled. As his fingers settled onto the strings he seemed transported. In the next moment, still somewhat in a dream, his fingers began to move, as in a dance, gently caressing the strings. A rich, stirring melody filled the room, each note golden and resonating to the very heart. When he began to sing, he looked up at her. He had returned to her, yet the rhythmic movement of his fingers and the sound of the instrument and his voice kept them both suspended half in fantasy.

 _"I am a young sailor, my story is sad_

 _Though once I was carefree and a brave sailor lad_

 _I courted a lassie, by night and by day_

 _Oh but now she has left me, and sailed far away…"_

She was spellbound. His voice...as he sang it was like hearing the remnants of a beautiful lost world, and yet it was still him. Still completely and truly him: the man she knew and who knew her perfectly, her best friend. She wanted to laugh and cry all at once.

 _"Oh if I was a blackbird, could whistle and sing,_

 _I'd follow the vessel my true love sails in_

 _And in the top rigging, I'd there build my nest_

 _And I'd flutter my wings o'er her lily white breast."_

He was right—it was a sad song. It seemed made for the lilting nuances of his brogue, bringing out the rise and fall and turn of his tone; and it painted her a picture of the world he came from. His fingers danced on and his voice continued the story of the yearning young man and his indifferent love. She couldn't help but reach out and touch his knee as he sang it. Such things always moved her. It made her heart swell in gratitude that they had finally come together. She hardly noticed when his music had stopped and he gently leaned the guitar against the side of the sofa and put his arms around her. She looked up when he kissed her head.

"That was beautiful. Thank you." She shook her head and laughed softly again. "I had no idea..."

"Eh, well." He smiled and rested is head on hers. "I've had a bit of a musical bent since I was just a lad."

"And is it only the sad and beautiful tunes you play?" She asked with a bemused grin. He began to laugh and sat up. She looked at him curiously.

"I'll tell you what," he said with a gleam in his eye, "come to the village dance next Saturday." She gaped at him but he wouldn't say a word, just laughed again. He got up to put his guitar back amongst the shapes of the corner. He leaned it up against one of the bookshelves. It took up its positions amongst two violins of different shapes (perhaps one was some interesting variation on a violin, she wasn't sure), a guitar, and at least three various piccolo-like woodwind instruments, all on top of a large black trunk.

"Well then, if you won't explain yourself, will you at least tell me what on earth is in the trunk?" She asked incredulously.

"How about," he glanced back at her mischievously, "I tell you at our wedding." She flung up her hands in defeat, but couldn't hold back a grin.

"Well, not long now I suppose—it really can't come soon enough," she smiled, nestling into him once more.


	2. Chapter 2

p class="p1"span class="s1"She had no idea what a crucial participant the doctor was in the monthly village dances—how he fiddled with the the band, effectively leading the music, and ensuring that a good number of reels were played; how when they were, he sang along with the lively melodies and stomped his feet as if he were home in a Scottish village. So when she entered the schoolhouse with him that night, a little timid in the presence of all the loud villagers whom she had never met, she didn't know what to expect./span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"She also had no idea that Mrs. Hughes—now Mrs. Carson, she must remember—loved the dances and reveling in the music of her homeland as much as he did. This time she had dragged her husband along with her, taking advantage of their recent marriage to force him to an event that he might otherwise have tried to avoid with all his might. Isobel caught Mrs. Carson's eye from across the schoolroom turned dance-floor, who smiled at her questioningly and started towards her with Mr. Carson trailing behind. /span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1""Good evening, Mrs. Crawley. I didn't know you were a frequenter of these dances—in fact I would never have suspected it," Mrs. Carson greeted her with a twinkling smile./span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1""Hello, Mrs. Carson, Mr. Carson," Isobel replied, smiling at both in turn. "In fact I've never been to one before, but Dr. Clarkson requested I attend, so of course I was curious," she laughed. At this, Mrs. Carson glanced over at where Dr. Clarkson was standing with a group of village men, laughing and talking eagerly. /span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1""Oh, I see," she said knowingly. " Well in that case I believe you will be pleasantly surprised this evening." Isobel raised her eyebrows and was about to respond with a question when Mrs. Carson silenced her. "I'll say no more, as I'm sure you'll find out what I mean soon enough." Just as they were moving to leave, Mr. Carson turned back./span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1""If I may, Mrs. Crawley, I would like to offer our congratulations to you and Dr. Clarkson on your engagement. I'm sure we wish you both the greatest joy."/span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1""Oh, yes of course, we're very happy for you, Mrs. Crawley!" Mrs. Carson added eagerly. Isobel was touched by the obvious sincerity of their words. Despite the divide of class, to herself she certainly counted these two as friends, and it meant a great deal to her to see they felt the same. She thanked them, smiling grateful and laughing to herself as she saw Mrs. Carson pull her reluctant husband into a group of villagers gossiping animatedly. Then she turned, suddenly wondering where Richard had gotten to, and was startled to see that he and the group of men he had just been talking to were now standing next to the stage, tuning a variety of instruments. He himself was plucking the strings of a clearly well-worn fiddle, holding his ear to the instrument and adjusting the small knobs at the base of each string ever so slightly. /span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"Within a few moments, one man in the group—a large, barrel-chested villager with rosy, jovial cheeks and bright blue eyes, also carrying a fiddle and bow—stepped forward and shouted for quiet with a booming voice. With a grin he called out:/span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1""How about some dancing, then?"/span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"Whoops and cheers came from the audience as a few stray chairs were scraped away to the edge of the room, and the first set of dancers lined up in preparation. The man who had spoken turned to face his fellow musicians, whispered something to them, then took his place among them, facing the dancers. He tapped a measure of the beat with his foot and then all at once the room exploded into melody. /span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"Every single musician's face was filled with the freest joy as their fingers flew with almost thoughtless skill. Layers of rhythms collided. The sound of each instrument alternated in rising above the rest, detaching from the melody to present its unique golden thread, then falling back in with the others, leaving you with the unforgettable awareness of its contribution to the whole. The strings and pipes sang of windswept, rolling land, jutting cliffs, clear, powerful streams, and tumultuous, passion-filled skies. The sound of the music was almost inseparable from the image of the laughing, flying dancers, filling the room with the spirit of the purest delight in firelight and fellowship./span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"After four exuberant songs, thoroughly enjoyed by dancers and onlookers alike, the leader announced a short break for the musicians. Most of the men hurried to the punch table, but Dr. Clarkson searched for and quickly found Isobel, standing near the edge of the room and smiling broadly. However, just as he was starting toward her, he caught the eye of Mrs. Carson across the room. He grinned and hurried to greet her. He took her hand, wished her joy, and kissed her cheek. They laughed together for a moment or two, their accents growing stronger in the presence of the other, sharing a speech and a heritage that no one else at Downton could. /span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"At first, Isobel was a little hurt that he hadn't at once come to speak to her; but even more she was simply surprised at the clearly strong friendly relationship between the pair. She realized that their shared background and love of music—Mrs. Carson had danced all but one of the reels with energy and skill—must make each a valuable friend to the other. At this, she became grateful that they had each other in Downton for these rare moments of reminiscing. Then suddenly, the doctor leaned over to whisper excitedly in Mrs. Carson's ear (making Isobel start and Mr. Carson bristle). Mrs. Carson blushed a little but still laughed aloud. Then Dr. Clarkson hurried back across the floor to join the other returning musicians. /span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"He immediately engaged the leader in a hasty and eager discussion. The man seemed to catch the doctor's infectious grin. They huddled together with the other players as people in the room began to call out impatiently for another dance. Isobel looked on in stunned amazement as her man emerged from the huddle, clearing his throat to demand the attention of the room—an unnecessary step as all eyes were already on to him./span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1""If you please," he began, quieting the room with more showmanship and confidence than Isobel had ever heard from the gentle and reserved doctor. "If you please, I'd like to play a reel in honor of the new bride. Mrs. Carson, if you'd like to lead the dancing?"/span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"Mr. Carson was helpless in his shock as his dearest friend and now wife grabbed his hand and led him to the middle of the floor. A few other eager young couples followed, unsure what to expect but unwilling to miss out on it. Dr. Clarkson whispered for a moment more with his fellow players before turning back to the dancers, smiling at Mrs. Carson, then tapping his foot exaggeratedly to start the musicians off. /span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"Mrs. Carson laughed as she started off the dancing. But Isobel was, if possible, even more shocked than before when Dr. Clarkson began to sing./span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"em"Gentlemen it is my duty /em/span/p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"emTo inform you of one beauty,/em/span/p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"emThough I ask of you a favor no to seek her for a while,/em/span/p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"emThough I own she is a creature /em/span/p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"emOf character and feature, /em/span/p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"emNo words can paint the picture of the Queen of all Argyll."/em/span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"As he the chorus of the song began, the other men joined in the song. For a moment, Dr. Clarkson glanced over to where Isobel sat, surprised and entranced, but clapping and grinning all the same. He suddenly put down his fiddle, stepped over to her, and reached out his hand. She looked startled for a moment, but soon took it with laugh. He led her in the now full and wild dance as the reeling tune played. She felt herself whisked into the joyful rhythm. Then all in a moment, he whisked her away again. He brought her aside to stand with him beside the band and nodded slightly to the players. Suddenly the frenzied music quieted and softened. He sought out Downton's own Scottish beauty, gave her a playful smile, and began to sing the last verse./span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"em"So my lads I needs must leave you/em/span/p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"emMy intentions no' to grieve you/em/span/p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"emNor indeed would I deceive you/em/span/p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"emOh I'll see you in a while…"/em/span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"He held her waist tight to him as he sang the words; and as he closed on the last few lines of verse, he turned to look at her with the playful smile still on his lips./span/p  
p class="p2" /p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"em"I must find some way to gain her/em/span/p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"emTo court her and attain her/em/span/p  
p class="p1"span class="s1"emI fear my heart's in danger/em/span/p  
p class="p1"emFrom the Queen of all Argyll."/em/p 


End file.
